Murder Comes To Call: three Inspector Constable murder mysteries (The Inspector Constable Murder Mysteries Book 4)

by Roger Keevil

  “And is that all of the trustees?”

  “Oh no,” said Colin. “It's a right mix of Town and Gown. There's also Mrs. Pocock, who's Financial Secretary to the Trustees; we've got Colonel Muskett – he's Vice-Chairman of the Board of Trustees; and then naturally there's Mrs. Wright, of course.”

  “Mrs. Wright?” Constable furrowed his brow. “The name rings a bell. Who's she?”

  “She's the Lady Mayoress of Camford, inspector. I'd be surprised if you didn't know a thing or two about her,” added Colin with a meaningful look.

  “Of course! I knew I knew the name. She's on one of the Chief Constable's committees for something-or-other, I think. And that's the lot who were here for yesterday's meeting?”

  “That's right, inspector. Everyone arrived sometime after six for the meeting – ah, now, I tell a lie, because Mrs. Wright was late. She'd phoned up earlier to speak to Lord Ellpuss, and it came through here to my switchboard.” Colin indicated an ancient-looking contraption next to the hatch, with an old-fashioned headset and a cats-cradle of wires and jack-plugs leading from socket to socket, which looked as if it might have been installed by Alexander Graham Bell himself. “She's never been good at punctuality at the best of times, and I thought, she's going to trot out all the usual excuses, so I put her through to the Master's House. It's amazing what you overhear sometimes, isn't it? Anyway, where was I?”

  “People arriving?” Constable reminded him. “Mrs. Wright?”

  “Yes, well, if you've heard anything about her, I dare say I don't need to go into details.”

  “Let's assume I haven't, Mr. Lisson. It probably depends on which newspapers I read, I imagine. So perhaps you'd better remind me.”

  “Let's just say she's got the reputation as a bit of a good-time girl, if you see what I mean, inspector.” It was hard to tell from Colin's expression whether he approved or not. “Three husbands, she's had, and there have been rumours, but I'm not one to repeat gossip, of course. Let's just say that I was told by somebody who ought to know that she used to be in the profession.”

  “Does that mean what I think it means, sir?” enquired Copper.

  “Does it, Mr. Lisson?”

  “It means,” said Colin, with heavy emphasis and a half wink, “that she used to be in West End shows in London, and don't you go saying I said anything else. But yes, she used to be on the stage, and then she married the composer of the musical she was in – you know, that odd-looking bloke with the sticky-up hair. Made a lot of fuss, that did, what with his wife kicking up and everything. But then the next thing you know, she's divorced him, picked up a bundle, moved up here and married old Lord Camford. Dear old soul, he was, and well-liked around here, too. That one caused a lot of gossip, but everybody reckoned it suited them both – he got a pretty young wife, and she got herself a title. Then, blow me down, he pops off not long afterwards, and they say she did quite well out of the will. Not the title and the house, of course, because they went to some cousin or other, so she was left at a bit of a loose end, so to speak.”

  “And did the end remain loose for long?”

  “Not so's you'd notice, inspector. Being a bit of a local celebrity, as it were, she managed to get herself elected to the local council, and before you know it she was getting married to old Joe Wright, the Lord Mayor. Not that he lasted long – heart attack, they said, but my opinion is, she wore the poor old devil out – but by then she had quite a few friends on the council, as you might say, so they made her Lady Mayoress in his place.”

  “That certainly is an interesting career,” remarked Constable. “Three husbands!”

  “Yes, and I've heard tell she's on the lookout for the next one already. I reckon Lord Ellpuss's papers would have had a field day if they'd known about her history.”

  “So back on the subject of this phone call, Mr. Lisson, you mentioned overhearing something. I assume you left the loudspeaker connected by accident, or something of the kind?”

  “Oh, er, yes, that's what happened, inspector.” Colin reddened, plainly thoroughly embarrassed at being caught out in his eavesdropping. “She rang up, and told Lord Ellpuss that she was going to be late for the meeting because she'd got tied up with one of the University rowing team – her 'personal trainer', as she called him. I've seen him – six foot four, and built like a ...” Colin recollected that he was posing as a man unwilling to spread gossip. “Anyway, she told His Lordship that she'd make it up to him somehow, and that she was worth waiting for.”

  “And that was the end of the conversation?”

  “Yes, because she was finishing just as everybody arrived – those that weren't here already, that is. Mrs. Pocock put her head around my lodge door to ask if there was any post for her, so I had to get off the line, and she asked who it was, and I told her, and she said it was time Lord Ellpuss knew the sort of people he was dealing with. Then she took the post from the tray – loads of it, there was, because she gets all the Trust financial stuff to do with the C.A.S.H. appeal – and she went on up.”

  “So that's Mrs. Pocock out of the way, then.”

  “Yes. The only time I saw her later was in the quad when I was doing one of my patrols. She was over by the chapel, and I just nodded, but I don't think she saw me.”

  “And all the others you mentioned had gone through to the meeting, you say? The colonel and the other academics? Professor Plump, and so on?”

  “The professor was already on the premises, inspector. Oh, but I did take a call for him later on in the evening. I wouldn't normally have bothered to find him at that hour, but it was from America, and the chap seemed very insistent and said it was important, and said the Professor was expecting the call, so I put it through to him in the Master's study.”

  “And do you by any remote chance have any idea as to the nature of the call, Mr. Lisson?”

  “Certainly not.” Colin bristled at the implication. “I hope you aren't suggesting that I would listen in on a private call.”

  “Never entered my mind,” returned Constable soothingly. “Just a thought.” He downed the remainder of his tea. “Well, we shan't keep you from your duties any longer. Thank you for the information.”

  “If I find out anything else, I'll let you know.” Colin seemed eager to assist.

  “That would be kind.” Constable stood. “Come along, sergeant – the game's afoot.”

  *

  The detectives stood sheltering under the arch of the gatehouse, as a brisk breeze whipped the occasional snowflake around the quad.

  “Right then, sergeant,” said Constable, “what did you manage to garner from all those ramblings? Who's on our list, and where do we begin?”

  Copper consulted his notebook. “There's half-a-dozen or so names, guv, but as for where you want to start, I don't have a clue, do I? There's Professor Plump, Miss Scarlatti, and the Reverend Grey – they seem to be what you might call the insiders – and after that I've got Mrs. Pocock, Colonel Muskett, and Mrs. Wright, who are somewhere out in the big wide world. I suppose it's easier to start here and work outwards, wouldn't you say?”

  “I agree,” said Constable. “And don't forget the wife and the son. We'll need to speak to them, but I think I'd rather leave that until we've got a little more information. I suppose we may as well start at the top with the Professor, who I assume we'll find in his house next to the crime scene.”

  “If crime it was, sir. I mean, it's not as if Lord Ellpuss was hit over the head with a piece of lead piping or something obvious like that. We still don't know for certain.”

  “And shan't until we hear from the doctor. But my detective's nose tells me we're not wasting our time, so let's be about it. Start at the top and work down.”

  The pair skirted the small lawn in the Vice-Chancellor's Quadrangle, where the outline of Lord Ellpuss's body still stood out from the surrounding snow, now trampled by footprints, and a small team of overall-clad SOCO officers were beginning to erect a small white tent. Constable rapped on the
sturdy timber door with its shiny brass letterbox engraved 'Prof. E. Plump'. The knock was answered by a heavily-built man of about sixty, with quivering jowls, small eyes, a red-veined nose, and thinning grey hair carefully arranged across the top of his head.

  “Professor Plump? Good morning, sir. Sorry to disturb you. I'm Detective Inspector Constable, and this is Detective Sergeant Copper.” The two officers presented their warrant cards. “We'd like to ask you some questions about the death of Lord Ellpuss. May we come in?”

  The professor wheezed his way up the creaking oak staircase and showed the detectives into a cosy low-ceilinged sitting room with a fire blazing in the brick hearth. He waved his visitors towards a large chintz sofa, took a seat in a matching wing chair, and looked expectantly at the inspector.

  “May we have your full name, just for the record, please,” began Constable.

  “Of course, inspector. It's Edwin Samuel Plump, and I'm the Pro-Vice Chancellor of Ewell Hall – sorry, I haven't yet got used to calling it Harde-Knox College. I suppose I shall in time.”

  “And I'm afraid I'm a bit hazy as to titles and responsibilities, what with Chancellors and Masters and so on. Can you clear that up for me?”

  “I'm sure it must be very confusing if you're not from our world, inspector.” The professor's patronising tone and the accompanying smile set Copper's teeth on edge, but Constable seemed untroubled. “The actual Chancellor is the Countess of Sussex, but of course that is purely ceremonial, and Her Royal Highness doesn't have anything to do with the running of the establishment. The late Master was also the Vice-Chancellor, and that meant that when he unfortunately died, the position of Vice-Chancellor was left vacant, and because there are so many considerations to be taken into account in selecting a new V.C., I was appointed as Pro-Vice Chancellor in the interim.”

  “So effectively, you're the man in charge, sir.”

  “Indeed so,” said Professor Plump comfortably. “And it is a big responsibility, being at the helm of an establishment such as this, with all its history and traditions, but of course an academic background like mine is the perfect foundation for such an important job.” He waved a casual hand in the vague direction of a wall of highly impressive-looking framed diplomas. “Needless to say, I delegate a great deal. One is so lucky to have good colleagues around one.”

  “And Lord Ellpuss, sir,” pursued Constable. “The position of Master seems to have been filled far more quickly than that of Vice-Chancellor. Why would that be?”

  “Money, inspector,” replied the professor. “The world of finance moves a great deal faster than the world of academe, and evidently those in a position to make the decision felt that swift action was appropriate. And I have to say that his presence has been a godsend. I have had a huge amount of help and support from His Lordship – he has been very much a hands-on Master in terms of monitoring our activities and placing us all on a sound footing, albeit that he's done most things from a distance. It's such a shock that he's died so suddenly like this.”

  “Which brings me to my next question, professor, which is to ask when you last saw His Lordship? I gather there was some sort of meeting of trustees yesterday evening, which you attended. Would it have been then?”

  “Well, yes, then, and of course at the party afterwards.”

  “Which party would that be, sir? We don't know anything about a party.”

  “Oh, it was a very small-scale affair, inspector – hardly worthy of the name, really.” Plump smiled deprecatingly. “But as it was so close to Christmas, there was a little get-together in the Master's house for a few drinks. I of course attended, as I believe did all the other members of the Trust.” He nodded in recollection. “Yes, I think we were all there, plus of course Lady Ellpuss. She is a most gracious hostess.”

  “And Lord Ellpuss was well when you last saw him?”

  “Oh, most certainly, inspector. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. In fact, one might say the Master was having the time of his life.”

  “Which perhaps is just as well, considering how little of it there was left to him,” remarked Constable drily. “So you can think of nothing unusual about the events of yesterday? Nothing to disturb the smooth running of the evening?”

  “No, not at all, inspector.”

  “What about the phone call, sir?” prompted Dave Copper.

  Professor Plump looked momentarily puzzled. “Phone call, sergeant? I don't understand.”

  “The college gatekeeper said he put a phone call from America through to you, sir,” said Copper. “He said it sounded important. Was that anything to do with the Trust meeting?”

  The professor's brow cleared, and he gave a chuckle. “Oh dear me no, sergeant, nothing like that. Well, only in an oblique way. We have approaches all the time from large companies who want to offer some sort of support or sponsorship for us. It's all in the aftermath of the arrangements we made with the Harde-Knox Corporation. Mostly it's a hen-pecked company chairman wanting a lecture theatre renamed in honour of his wife – I've become very adept in finding ways of accepting their generosity while saying no.”

  Constable glanced at Copper, who gave the smallest of shrugs. “Then I think that will do for the moment, sir,” said the inspector. “Except that we need to speak to the other people present last night, and I believe that some of your academic colleagues are among them. Could you perhaps tell us where we might find Miss Scarlatti or the Reverend Grey.”

  “If Miss Scarlatti is here, she may be at her apartment in the main quad, and as for the chaplain, you'll normally find him somewhere around the chapel.”

  *

  In the quad, the detectives surveyed the array of identically-studded oak doors in the ranges of two-storey buildings around the periphery.

  “Well, I'm not going hammering door-to-door like some over-age trick-or-treater,” said Constable.

  “Why don't I knock up Colin Lisson and ask, sir? Much quicker.”

  “I knew I brought you along for a reason, sergeant. Well, don't just stand there, get on with it.”

  In response to Copper's enquiry, Colin emerged from the fug of his den into the chill of the quad and pointed to a door in the middle of the range.

  A thought struck the sergeant. “While I've got you here, Mr. Lisson, can you tell me where I might track down Mrs. Pocock, Colonel Muskett, and the Lady Mayoress? I'm assuming that as they are none of them resident here, they would have left the college last night.”

  “That's right, they did,” confirmed Colin. “Now Mrs. Pocock, she's got a little house just round the corner from the college in Cutpurse Lane. That's where all the low-class drinking dens used to be in the eighteenth century,” he explained in response to Copper's quizzical look. “It's all gentrified now. Number 17, she lives at. As for the colonel, you'll usually find him propping up the lounge bar of the Camford Arms Hotel, boring everyone stiff with stories of his time in the army. And you could try the Town Hall in the Square if you want Mrs. Wright – I think there's something going on today with children and carols round the Christmas tree, so she'll probably be there.”

  Details noted, Copper rejoined the waiting inspector and knocked at the door indicated by Colin. A light, visible through a tiny lancet window, went on in the hall, and a brisk clack of approaching footsteps was heard. The door opened.

  “Yes?” The woman who opened the door was tall and striking-looking. A glossy black bob framed a face with piercing eyes and dramatic cheekbones, and the slim body was dressed in a bright red blouse and elegant black pencil skirt. The ensemble was completed by red stilettos. Late forties, estimated Constable, and looking good on it.

  “Miss Scarlatti?”

  “I am. And you two, if I'm any judge at all, look very like policemen. I assume you're here to talk about Lord Ellpuss. You'd better come in out of the cold.” She passed through a door into a sitting room furnished with a mixture of comfortable tradition and stylish modernity, seated herself in an expensive-looking leather
and chrome armchair, and nodded the detectives towards a similar sofa. “How can I help?”

  Constable introduced himself and his companion. “We're given to understand, Miss Scarlatti, that you are involved with the Trust whose meeting was being chaired by Lord Ellpuss last evening, so I'm hoping you can give us some information surrounding yesterday's events.”

  “I'll do what I can, inspector.”

  “I suppose it's first things first. Your full name, if you wouldn't mind, just for my sergeant's notes.”

  “Of course. It's Donnatella Immaculata Scarlatti, sergeant. Donna for short.” A slight pause as Copper's eyes widened. “That's with two 'n's, two 'l's, two 'm's, and two 't's.”

  “Thank you, madam,” said Copper in relief. “I'm not terribly good with foreign spellings. Italian, is it?”

  Donna smiled. “A very long time ago, sergeant. The family is originally Sicilian, of course, but we're as English as can be now.”

  Constable resumed the questions. “And you're one of the leading academics of the college, I believe? Dean of something, I think?”

  “That's correct, inspector. I'm the Dean of Modern Languages. And to think that I used to be a mere student here, but of course, that's more years ago than I like to remember. They were very happy days, and I've loved this university ever since, but who would ever have thought that I would end up as a don?”

  “Quite an achievement, Miss Scarlatti,” agreed Constable.

  “Of course, I would never have got here but for the support of my family,” continued Donna. “That's why I feel so sorry for Lord Ellpuss's wife and son. Family is so very important, isn't it?”

  “Which brings us very neatly to the matter in hand. Now, you were present at the Trust's meeting yesterday – is there anything you can think of that we ought to know about that? Any tensions, for example? Any controversial subject matter?”

  “Not that occurs to me offhand,” replied Donna. “I seem to remember everything was fairly routine. There was a great deal of talk about money, of course, but that was hardly surprising, since that is the main purpose of the Trust. I suspect that I am like most people – too much talk of money, and I'm afraid my attention begins to wander.”